


Stitched with love

by forever_nerd



Series: February fun 2021 [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Chloe Loves Her Devil, Devil eyes, Disney References, Dom Chloe Decker, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fuckruary 2021 (Lucifer TV), Light Dom/sub, Lilo and Stitch References, Lucifer is also an alien, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Control, Porn with Feelings, Porn with a little bit of Plot, Post-Season/Series 05, Praise Kink, Soft Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Strip Tease, Sub Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), emotional smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29336976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forever_nerd/pseuds/forever_nerd
Summary: Chloe comes over to the penthouse unannounced one night and catches Lucifer watching Lilo & Stitch by himself and crying (into his popcorn).And this is what happens when this prompt gets written in February😂
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: February fun 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141664
Comments: 16
Kudos: 127





	Stitched with love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [batard_loaf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/batard_loaf/gifts).



> Based on a disney prompt by batard_loaf.
> 
> And yes it *is* a Fuckruary story.
> 
> Main prompts: praise kink.
> 
> Also, I regret nothing.

“Lucifer!” Beatrice calls as she slings her backpack onto her shoulders. 

This weekend the urchin will be camping somewhere in the LA wilderness with her father, celebrating Father’s Day. Lucifer of course wasn’t aware of the specific celebration (being one he never plans to partake in-as a son or a father) but he will happily accept any reason that makes the Detective exclusively his for the entirety of the long weekend ahead of them. 

He has _ plans _ . 

Many lovely plans that hopefully include the re-enactment of a very specific scene from his much beloved hot tub high school. 

“This is for you!” she says and holds out a bag emblazoned with the phrase “Happy Father’s Day”, the letters big, bold, colourful. 

He frowns suspiciously at it and lifts his hands stopping her in her tracks.

“Are you blind, child? Your father is over there,” he says huffily, pointing to Dan who is waiting by the door, a sudden smirk plastered on his face. 

“I know you’re not my dad, Lucifer,” she says exasperated, giving him the patented Decker women eye-roll. “But you are part of this family and well… here!” she says and shoves the bag into his stomach. “Deal with it!” Then she skips away, hugs her mother and drags Dan out of the house.

“Be careful!” Chloe calls. “And call me!” She closes the door and turns her full attention to him. “So? Aren’t you going to open your present?” she asks, biting her lower lip in an effort to hold back a smile. 

“Hmm. If I must.” 

In all honesty he’d rather not. Beatrice takes more after the Devil than either of her parents. She’s absolutely devious. He’s almost afraid of what the little bag holds, especially given the celebration itself. He looks inside it. There are two rectangular packages. He takes both out on the kitchen counter for inspection. Chloe settles on the other side, her face cradled between her hands as she leans on her elbows. He stares at them. They seem pretty innocent, size and shape wise at least.

“This is where you rip them open,” she says snarkily. He narrows his eyes at her.

“You know what they are,” he says accusingly.

“I do,” she confirms shamelessly. “Go on. Open them.”

He starts with the bulkier one. He rips the paper only to reveal a plain rectangular box. He draws the flap open and pulls out a mug. He rotates it slowly. It’s black and with bold, red lettering it says  _ No1 StepDevil. _ There are red horns adorning the No1, while a red pointy tail wraps around the StepDevil. 

There’s a sudden tightness in his chest and his throat feels too dry. He puts in on the counter and pulls out his flask. He takes a couple of swallows, his eyes never leaving the seemingly mundane object.

“You like it? It was her idea,” Chloe says and if he weren’t overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotion he might have heard the hint of nerves in her voice.

“It’s…” 

She straightens as she waits for his verdict, her palms pushing against the counter. 

“A lovely mug, truly. Despite the inaccuracies. And a great choice of colours as well. I will use it with pride. I’ll text her to relay my thanks.”

“She loves you a lot, you know,” she says, covering his hand with her own. 

“As do I, darling. Even if the words don’t slip out quite as easily as hers. You know I’d-”

“I know, baby,” she cuts him off, her hand cupping his cheek. “I know.” Her eyes have turned a little misty and she blinks, clearing her throat. “What about the other one?” she asks, pointing to the thin rectangular box. He rips the paper, almost excited even if he’d never admit it, and stares perplexed at the DVD case. There’s a small card attached to it. In the urchin’s messy scrawl it says,

_ Dear Lucifer, _

_ I’m SO happy you’re back for good! Thank you for making my mom so happy. _

_ You’re the best step-devil in every dimension! _

_ Love you,  _

_ Trixie _

_ PS: I always think of you when I watch this. So much that it’s only fair that YOU have this now! _

He looks at the cover dubiously. Two Hawaian girls riding a wave on a surfboard and a…

“What on Dad’s earth is this blue...  _ thing _ ?”

“I’m not allowed to say anything. You have to watch it.”

“Funny, sassy and original,” he reads from the cover. “That does sound like yours truly! Is that why she’s reminded of me?”

Chloe mashes her lips together, smothering a smile. He narrows his eyes at her,  _ again. _

“Sure,” she says, dragging out the sound. “Yeah. That’s definitely why.” She runs up the stairs. “I’ll just grab a few things and we can go.”

“Darling, any chance you can take that red bikini too?” he asks, all too eager.

He can hear her laughter all the way down,

\------------------------

  
  
  


He’s not having a good day. In the morning Ella got manure all over his last Burberry, solidifying his decision to never  _ ever _ purchase Burberry again. Then he returned to the precinct in a fresh suit only to find that the Detective had been sent off to assist one of the newbies across town. And to add insult to injury, Daniel had run out of pudding. 

So really, the fact that the Detective had to cancel their night due to some vague emergency is the icing on the cake. When he returns home he gets rid of his suit and dons his favourite satiny sleep pants and robe and prepares to crash before the TV. His mood is too sour to join the patrons of Lux tonight. As he’s preparing his extra buttery popcorn his eye catches the DVD case. He had indeed brought it here along with his new mug and, perhaps purposefully, forgotten all about it. He holds the case as the sound of the kernels popping fills the kitchen.

Well, he ought to watch it at some point.

Perhaps this awful day needs a proper finale.

  
  


It takes him a while to realize that Beatrice probably likens him to Stitch. 

He’s the lawless yet cunning creature that infiltrates the family of the two girls. However, he’s also ugly, has absolutely no manners and entirely too many limbs-on occasion.

He’s somewhat insulted at first and considers turning it off but there’s Elvis on so he decides to shoulder through.

He can be the bigger person.

_ Your badness levels are high for someone of your size _ , Lilo says and Lucifer scoffs at the screen. 

Why on earth would the urchin think of him every time she saw this film? 

Was she implying that he was  _ bad _ ? 

That he _ is _ bad? 

Beatrice has always been vocal and expressive in her acceptance,  _ nay _ affection towards him. 

Surely that’s not the reason. 

At least he hopes it’s not. 

He decides to change his approach. He might not be short and ugly but in a sense h _ e is  _ an alien. Well, almost. A completely different species-and far superior if he may add (unlike this creature).

As the little beast gobbles down the cake Lucifer finds another similarity. He too has a terrible sweet tooth. Thank Dad he’s not limited to a human metabolism. But when the blue monstrosity spits out the pieces of cake and almost retches that cherry, he is so utterly disgusted that he rejects the idea of being anything like that. 

He’s so baffled by the concept that she would find anything common between the two of them that he almost misses the din of the elevator. He scrambles to turn off the screen, absolutely mortified at the thought of being caught watching such childish poppycock and for a moment he understands the nerve wracking embarrassment others experience while caught red handed watching porn. 

“Lucifer?” Chloe calls, her voice curling into a question.

“Yes, darling?” he offers, as innocently as he can. “I thought you were busy with an emergency?” 

“It has been dealt with,” she says as she approaches, coming to stand before the sofa. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, her eyes roving all over him, a smile blooming on those lovely lips.

“Just sitting here.”

“What were you watching?” she asks, suppressing a smile.

"Something nasty. You really don’t want to see it.”

“Bad porn? Well, that explains why your hands are not busy elsewhere,” she says with a smirk and falls onto the sofa next to him. She munches on some popcorn. Moans a little. “Oh these are so yummy! So? Can I join you? I had a  _ really _ tiring day,” she says, kicking off her boots.

“Um… maybe we could do something else,” he offers, giving her his best smoulder, like that Flyn guy, and leans in for a kiss. 

(So he may have watched Tangled. He likes blonds.)

But Chloe simply leans back, avoiding his lips, her eyes turning suspicious.

“What were you watching?” she asks again, her voice leaving no room for nonsense.

He falls back onto the couch, heaving a long-suffering sigh.

“The urchin’s gift.”

“Lilo and Stitch?” She perks up. “We could watch it together.  _ If _ you make some more popcorn.”

“That’s definitely a deal, Detective.”

  
  
  


_ This is my family. I found it all on my own. It’s little and broken but it’s good _ , Stitch says and that word,  _ family _ , tugs at his heartstrings in the most wonderfully painful way and he’s unable to stop the wetness that gathers in his eyes . 

Daddammit, they  _ are _ alike. He too, against all odds, managed to find a family of his own. People he cares about, people that care about _ him, _ as impossible as that may be. 

He shoves more popcorn in his mouth because surely his body can’t carry out these two functions together and nutrition should definitely supersede this ridiculous desire to snivel like a little human spawn, yes? 

“I love this part,” Chloe whispers, snuggling closer to him. 

What has become of him? 

He was the King of Hell dammit.

And here he is getting misty eyed over a multi-limbed blue alien.

"Still wondering why he reminds her of you?" she asks softly in the dark, her breath ghosting across the line of his jaw. She kisses his cheek, surely tasting the salt of his tears. 

"I  _ am _ like him, aren’t I? I’ve found myself a family," he marvels with childlike wonder and she kisses him again. This time the corner of his mouth. 

"You most certainly have. I came  _ this close _ to forging my own purchase receipt to show off to your dad when he showed up." 

He laughs, grateful for the comic relief.

"Oh, and how much did I cost you, Detective?"

"That's something you'll never know. All you need to know is that you're mine. And I'm not going to let anyone take you away from me." 

All the humor suddenly dissipates with her words. In its place there's raw honesty and a tenderness that is unique to her, a tenderness he's only ever known from  _ her _ .

"Because you are mine. Aren't you?" she asks, her voice low and husky.

"Yes," he whispers, loving her possessiveness.

"All mine?" 

Her fingers glide down his body and even over the fabric he can feel the electricity of her touch.

"Yes," he rasps, finding it impossible to convey through this single syllable all the ways in which she absolutely owns him.

"Mmm, yes. Mine to protect. Mine to love," she tells him, cupping his face tenderly with both hands. "Mine to pleasure," she adds with a nip on his throat and everything inside him tightens. She straightens and kisses him on the mouth. 

Her kiss is fierce and demanding and he lets her lead, delighting in the thought of where this is going.

The moment she pulls away, he follows her lips, drunk on her taste and desperate for more.

She indulges him, her tongue rasping over his lips, her taste overwhelming his senses. 

"Strip for me," she tells him, their lips still touching, and desire detonates inside him, decimating everything else. She gets off of him and leans back on the other end of the couch, those blue eyes pulling him in their whirlpools.

They've played like this so many times that they no longer require the negotiation. They know each other's limits and desires as well as their own.

He stands, intent on fulfilling her every desire. It's hardly trouble when having her eyes on him is the definition of rapture. He unties the knot of the sash slowly pulling open the sides of his black robe. Her eyes follow the sliver of skin like an arrow, the metallic blue of her eyes stopping just under his navel. 

When her eyes return to his, he pushes the robe off his shoulders, letting the silk glide down the length of his arms before it pools at his feet. 

The only sounds are the rustle of satin and her breaths-he's far too excited to remember to breathe.

As he starts to push his sleep pants lower they snag on his cock, standing at full mast already. She bites her bottom lip, her eyes hungry, lustful, winding him up even further with just a look. 

When he steps out of his pants she stands and circles him slowly like a predator; but the touch that follows is feather soft and he melts under the heated regard. She runs her finger from the back of his knee up to his hip bone, leaving swirling patterns in its trail. 

He exhales shakily, his body pulled taut, like a set of perfectly tuned strings, ready to make music under her touch.

"You're beautiful," she whispers, placing a kiss on his left pectoral, over his heart.

The hand that's anchored at his hip starts drawing more patterns at the patch of skin between his navel and groin, making the muscles there tremble with sheer desire.

"Undress me," she tells him and he's beyond grateful, both for the task and the contact. 

His hands frame her neck and drag leisurely down the graceful slope of her shoulders to her hands. Then he takes the edge of her blouse and pulls it ever so slowly off of her. His fingers run along the dark strap, following the frilly edges of lace on the mounds of her breasts before he unclasps it and pulls it slowly off. 

"You can kiss me," she tells him and he accepts her offer like the gift it is. He kneels before her and lays a smattering of small open mouthed kisses from her breasts to her navel and then lower until his lips meet the waistband of her jeans. He unbuttons them and drags them down too. He revels in her touch, even if she's only steadying herself as he pulls her pants off and then she’s just in her knickers, a beautiful shade of aubergine that contrasts amazingly with her fair skin. He kisses her over the thin fabric until he reaches her clitoris. He blows a hot pulse over it and then kisses that, too. Her fingers sink into his hair clutching dark locks, to pull, to hold, to steady.

"I'm still somewhat dressed," she says disapprovingly and he hooks his fingers in them and pulls them down. He throws them on his robe, intent on keeping them. Then he pushes his face between her thighs nuzzling against her perfect cunt. She said he could kiss her, so he does. He french kisses her cunt, moaning at the sharp taste of her desire and her fingers tighten in his hair. She keens sweetly and tugs at his hair as she whispers  _ no _ . 

He stops and lifts his eyes up, searching for hers.

"Darling?" he asks, curious. She loves this almost as much as he does.

"Not yet." She bends at the waist and brings their faces close. "I want to ache for you.” He bites his lip to distract himself- he's so aroused that he fears he will come undone with a mere touch. “I want to beg for that pretty cock to fill me." The biting though does nothing to curb his joyful smile; he loves hearing those lips turn dirty, loves to hear them beg.

"As you desire," he says finally and she rewards him with another kiss.

"Sit on the sofa."

He does as she asks.

"Hands behind your head, my sweet," she tells him and his cock jumps at the endearment. He loves this boundless tenderness that saturates her voice when he gives himself over to her.

Again he does as she asks.

Her eyes sail over the plains of his body adoringly and she sighs, a happy sound that smoothes over him like a caress. She walks to the sofa and straddles him, trapping his cock between their bodies, her cunt wet and hot on his skin.

"Hmmm... So many things I could do. I almost can't decide," she says her hands busy on his skin. But nowhere near enough to where he's desperate for her touch.

She lies on him and her breasts press on his feverish skin, her pebbled nipples twin points that drive him mad with desire. He wants them between his lips. She kisses a line from his jaw to his lips. His mouth lays open in clear invitation and she doesn't disappoint. Her kiss is all soft, moist lips and tongue and he moans into it. 

"You still taste like me," she says between more kisses and nips. "Do you like that?"

"I love it. I want more. Please."

"Maybe later. You've been so good this far, my sweet. I think you deserve a reward. What does my sweet Devil want?"

All his lurid thoughts come to a screeching halt at the paradoxical pet name. Of course she notices his stunned expression and gives him a soft smile. 

"What? Are you not the Devil? Are you not sweet?" He nods, slightly stupefied. The days when he used to contradict her over such things are gone. "Are you not  _ mine _ ?" 

" _ Yes _ ," he stresses not wanting her to have an inkling of doubt over that and the muscles in his arms bulge as he strains to keep them still.

"See?" she says coquettishly, her nails scratching lightly said muscles. "Now... Tell me what you desire."

He squeezes his eyes shut, overwhelmed; by her touch, by her body, by  _ her _ and the disarming way with which she regards him. Desire sears his insides like lava and his cock strains between them, weeping, neglected.

"Touch me. Please," he begs, his eyes popping open suddenly. "I burn for you."

"I can see that," she says, her expression turning mesmerized. His now scarlet eyes are reflected in her sea-blue gaze.

He's not particularly fond of brandishing any of his more devilish characteristics when he's spending quality time with her.

"I'm sorry," he says and her fingers are quick to cover his lips.

"Don't. I like them." She grinds herself against him, leaving a wet trail on his skin. He wants to grab that delectable ass and bring that sweet cunt on his cock. But he doesn't. He 

clenches his fists instead and his arms remain where they are.

"About that reward," she says and slips off his lap, making him whine. She kneels between his legs and he parts them further, already half-losing his mind at the thought of her mouth on him. "I thought you might enjoy some lubrication," she says and licks a long line from base to tip.

He groans, and the sound gets trapped in his throat with the way he's clenching his jaw. When her lips close around him, sucking him lightly, he scrunches his eyes shut for if he sees her sucking him off he will most certainly embarrass himself. She takes him in slowly, her hand pumping him, her tongue massaging all his favourite spots. All too soon she releases him and asks simply,

"Good?"

He looks at her, incredulous.

"Perfect."

"Just like you then." 

His groin tightens further. And then she's onto him again just like before. Her fingers wrap around him and she pumps him slowly, her eyes focused on him.

"You're so beautiful. I love watching you. I love seeing this pleasure on your beautiful face. I love _ you _ ."

"Chloe," he rasps, his need devastating. "I need to hold you. Please."

"Soon, my sweet. Can you be a little more patient for me?"

"Anything for you," he vows fervently. She leans closer, her body once more flush to his, and kisses him. It's soft, almost innocent if it weren't for her hand still pumping him between their bodies, her grip tight, her rhythm torturously steady.

"You are  _ such  _ a good boy. Always so good to me." Her thumb swipes over the head and she fondles his balls, making him choke on his already too shaky breaths. "Do you have any idea my sweet, what this does to me? Having you surrender yourself to me when I know what power hides under this skin? It floors me, completely unravels me. It makes me burn for you, too." 

Her words are winding him tighter and tighter-a coil that's about to snap in the most glorious of ways- and he can feel his eyes turn incandescent. Her lips are so close that it's not a choice when he fuses his lips to hers, at least not a conscious one.

Her hand speeds up and he moans, the change in pace exactly what he needs. "So strong, so powerful, so  _ good. _ .." she breathes onto his mouth, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth. “The best partner I’ve ever had, my best friend.”

He moans again, long and guttural, so close, and her next words give him the little push he needs.

"Such a good, sweet Devil.  _ The best _ . And  _ all mine _ ."

He whimpers some version of her name as his vision whites out and he comes in long spurts between their bodies. Her hand keeps moving, slower, pulling more moans from him while he trembles under her. When he opens his eyes again all he can see is the sea and all he wants is to lose himself in her depths. 

"You can hold me now," she whispers on his cheekbone, kissing the corner of his eye. His arms encircle her at once, pulling her closer,leaving no space between his bodies. 

"I love you," he says, still panting. "You are incredible." His hands sink into the hair at the back of her head and he pushes his forehead against hers, breathing her in.

"It takes two to tango, Lucifer. And there's no partner like you. Never was. Never will be."

He pulls back, needing to look into her eyes. Blue meets brown again and the smile that graces his lips is born without thought, without effort.

“Is that more praise? Be still my heart," he says, his lips pulling into a drunken smile.

"I meant every word,"she says, eyes soft but serious and that sweet pain spreads everywhere, imbuing every cell, every atom.

"You think too kindly of me and for that I thank you. Now," he says before she has time to voice her complaints, "it appears that I've made quite the mess of you. May I clean you up, darling?" he asks because he wants to play more. Because it's easier to distract himself with these lovely, fun activities than focus on this all consuming, overwhelming love that eclipses everything, demanding to be acknowledged. 

After being thousands of years apart from her, he no longer questions or wonders at this boundless, steadfast love she nurtures for him. But the intensity of his own feelings still scares him sometimes. It’s impossible for his mind not to boggle at this love profusion that has taken over his heart when there had only been pain and guilt and anger for millennia. 

He feels as if she excised all the rancour, hurt and venom from his soul and then stitched him back together with her love. She has made him feel like Lightbringer again, like all his precious stars. And he shines the brightest when in her presence.

She runs her fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and he closes his eyes, ready to purr like a dad-damned cat. He feels her other hand running up the column of his throat before grabbing his chin roughly. His eyes fly open, excited because apparently she too wants to play some more.

“I am not being kind. I am being honest. Is there someone out there that would be better for me than you?” she asks, her tone conversational. He knows she’s baiting him but he can’t help the spike of jealousy that lances through him.

“No,” he says, almost a snarl. “No one.”

“Who deserves me?” she asks slowly, nipping at his jawline.

“Only one man does,” he whispers, his erection pressing long and hard against her belly again. “Your Devil.”

“See? I’m so glad we agree on this,” she says and promptly sucks his earlobe between her lips, giving it a nice little bite. He groans, drawing her closer to him, feeling her nipples press on his chest. “And yes, you  _ have _ made quite the mess here. I think you rather enjoyed that. And I really, _ really  _ want those hands all over me, cleaning me up.”

He stands at once, his hands wrapped around her and walks to the bathroom. 

“Shower,” she whispers intimately at the shell of his ear and he happily obeys.

They step under the hot spray together, her back to his chest, and he runs his hands over her skin softly, chasing away the stickiness. They wash each other, their hands soft and their touches intimate, turning from reverent to sensual and back again. Their sighs and hums billow around them like another kind of steam, one that warms in different ways. When they stand under the spray to rinse, his fingers sink into her hair to separate the strands and for some reason that seems to be her undoing. She pulls him down and covers his lips with hers. There’s an urgency behind the press of her lips that he recognizes.

She pushes closer, kisses him deeper, holds him tighter.

A fear, lurking behind and driving this fervency, that he shares.

That it won’t be enough. That no matter how many kisses and  _ I love yous _ they cram into the time they have, they'll still never be enough. 

How can he satiate this craving?

He’s the King of desire but he has absolutely no idea how to quiet this beast.

He constantly wants to be one with her; to inhabit under her skin and feel the pulse of her heart as if it were his own. 

They kiss under the hot spray again and again that Lucifer loses track of time. It might as well have been five minutes or five hours. He cannot tell.

All he knows is the press of her hot and all-too willing body against his, her hands around his neck, her taste-her scent, her presence outshining everything else in the whole bloody world. When the smell of her arousal becomes more torture than pleasure, he begs, unashamed.

“Please, may I kiss you, Detective? I’ve been good, haven’t I?” He needs her taste blooming on his tongue. Needs her trembling and wanting in his arms, praising him for the pleasure he’s so desperate to give her.

“Oh baby, you’ve been so good you can have anything you desire.”

“I want your taste on my tongue, I want those silken, wet lips between my own.I want your moans and whimpers as you ride my face.”

“It’s yours my sweet. All yo-” she can’t even get the words out before his mouth slants against hers again, his kiss a blaze of tongue and teeth that’s over too quickly but he can’t help himself. His bounty awaits so he makes his way down her body, laying kissing between her breasts and licking the water that clings to her ribs and the dip of her navel and then blessedly lower until he can finally press his lips against her clit in a soft, wet kiss. He looks up and their eyes lock; they are darker and brimming with desire, dangerous like the sea.

Will she ever know? Will she ever realize the depth of his love? She looks breathtakingly beautiful, with her wet hair plastered to her skin and water pearls clinging on her body. Her fair skin, flushed with desire, makes a stark contrast to the dark stone behind her and he knows that even millennia would never be enough.

“You must be a creature of the sea,” he says and kisses the dark curls. “The water loves you too much. But not nearly as much as I do.”

She gives him a shy smile, always surprised by his compliments, and cups his cheek tenderly, her thumb running over his lips.

“One way or another these lips will be my undoing. I count that among my biggest blessings.”

He is not particularly fond of that word but he’ll take it from her lips. He hooks her thigh over his shoulder so that he can reach every bit of her delicious cunt and loses himself in the feel of these other lips against his own. He starts slow just the way she likes it and luxuriates in the taste of her arousal on his tongue and the sweet music that spills from her lips at his ministrations. His erection rests against his abdomen, heavy and hard and he imagines what it will feel like once he’s inside her as he pumps his finger into her cunt.

He knows she's close when she starts riding his face just like he wanted her to and his fingers dig into her ass possessively, pulling her closer. 

“ _ Lucifer _ ,” she whimpers as her fingers tighten in his hair. “Right... _ there, _ ” she moans and pushes her hips closer. He can feel her body ready to topple over so he does exactly what she had asked him to. 

He withdraws his fingers and pulls his mouth away. 

“No, no, no,” she whines, her fingers pulling at his locks. She stares down at him, confused, while he continues to lay kisses on her inner thighs. Her muscles tense and she exhales heavily. 

She pulls his hair back a bit sharply to look into his eyes. The flash of red in his eyes is pure instinct while the almost painful stab of arousal is all Chloe.

“Why did you stop, my sweet? Are you trying to be bad?” 

“No, Detective. I’m only trying to satisfy your desire. I only want to worship you.”

“Oh?”

“Earlier you told me that you wanted to ache for me,” he reminds her verbatim and her lips curl with a smile.

“ _ Oh _ . I did say that, didn’t I?” she remarks and her hand caresses his cheek. “And what else did I say?”

“That you wanted to beg for my pretty cock to fill you, Detective,” he says and his cock jumps at the thought of that. She looks down at his erection and bites her lip.

“That  _ is _ a very pretty cock. Do you want to fill me up, my sweet?”

“Desperately so. I already ache for you, Detective. I can’t wait to sink into your heat.”

“Well then, you only have to make me beg, my sweet.”

“With pleasure,” he says, and starts kissing her again. 

He does all the things that drive her wild, that make her claw at his scalp and moan long and sultry and then stops again and again, leaving her shaky and unsated while he lays kisses on her trembling thighs. 

She loves edging them both, loves this torment as every time she’s ready to beg her teeth sink in that plump bottom lip and all that escapes is her pained moans. 

Until he decides that they’ve both had more than enough. His kisses and licks make her keen with pleasure and he makes the build-up so intense that he has her begging for his cock even before he pulls away.

“Please,” she rasps her voice hoarse. “Please, please baby. I need you.”

He stands in a fluid, graceful move and crowds her against the dark stone.

“What do you need, Detective?” He runs his thumb over her bitten lip, wanting to sink his teeth into it too. She closes her lips around his thumb and sucks, her teeth grazing over it. 

“I need that pretty cock filling me up. Please,” she says and the look she gives him is enough to undo him completely. He picks her up and kisses her, his desire like babbling lava, thick and scorching hot, consuming with its searing heat everything in its path. Her legs wrap tightly around him and he pushes in slowly, inch by delicious inch until he’s completely sheathed inside her. 

“ _ Oh, yes, yes _ . You feel so good baby,” she breathes against his lips and he stills, teeth digging into his lower lip as he tries to calm himself, to focus on that small bit of pain, because she feels bloody perfect and the last thing he wants is to turn into a two-pump chump. But, she’s relentless. She tightens her legs around him, heels digging into his ass, pushing him closer.

“Darling… a moment please. You feel so bloody perfect that I’m afraid-”

“What? That you’ll come? No, you won’t. Not unless I tell you to. Now be a good Devil and fuck me. I want to come all around that pretty cock.” 

Her words, her command, make his arousal painful in its intensity. He wants nothing more than to please her. To have her praise wash over him. So, he does not need to be told twice. He does as she asked. He fucks her with slow, deep thrusts, the hand that’s keeping her aloft, pushing her ass closer to make his thrusts even deeper. 

It’s maddeningly good. And his Detective is such a vision. Her moans and gasps reverberate in his shower, a perfect symphony for his ears only, as her nails dig into the skin of his shoulder and neck, possessive. He brings his other hand to where their bodies meet and lets his thumb softly caress that exquisite bundle of flesh. She shudders for a moment and the grip around his waist turns tighter.

He presses his thumb, making his touch more insistent and she whimpers, her moans taking shape.

“ _ Yes _ . Please don’t stop. Please,” she begs and he’s already so bloody close. 

“Your begging tastes so sweet, Detective. Only my name tastes sweeter from your lips.”

He pumps into her harder, faster and then her voice, breathy and broken,

“Lucifer I’m--”

and her face, such rapture, such ecstasy that he could look at her forever and his wonder would never fade. 

Her body trembles in his arms, her cunt clenching around him and it’s too much, all of it too much to handle but he  _ can’t, _ he mustn’t come yet, so his hips keep moving, her pleasure feeding his own, his body coiled so tight that it hurts.

“Detective,” he says and the word drags, a plea, and her eyes snap open, reflecting the fire that burns in his. 

“So beautiful. Like rubies. My crown jewels,” she whispers and licks into his mouth. Her teeth sink into his bottom lip and he keens like a wounded beast- overcome and overwhelmed, intoxicated by her. “Now, I want those gorgeous eyes on me, Lucifer. Wanna watch my sweet Devil as he comes,” she tells him and he swears her eyes will be the death of him. “Let go, baby,” she says and all the strings snap. His orgasm is a violent rush of delirious pleasure, an earthquake whose tremors he can feel down to his every extremity; from his toes to the tips of his ears. Even his back vibrates with the trembling of his wings. His eyes stay on hers just as she asked and he groans through clenched teeth at the satisfaction he sees there; she loves to own him  _ and  _ his pleasure and he loves to be owned by her. 

  
  


His hips continue to rock into her, drunk on this heady feeling of his pleasure coalescing with hers. She cups his cheeks and molds her lips softly to his before she starts smattering his entire face with kisses.

_ “My perfect,”  _ kiss _ , “stunning,”  _ kiss, _ “sweet Devil,”  _ another kiss. She pushes his hair away from his forehead, her touch so very soft. “I love you,” she whispers with a smile and her words carry such light, such force, she could light up entire galaxies with them. He kisses her, unable to find his voice as exhausted as he is. “Did I break you?”

“Just a smidge. But I loved every second of it. I love you. You are incredible.”

“Incredible, huh? What has happened to your fancy vocabulary?” she asks with a smirk and he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up.

“Cheeky,” he admonishes, and sucks a hickey at the base of her throat.

“You know what? I think we should watch this  _ childish poppycock _ more often,” she teases.

“Oh Darling, after that performance? Any bloody time!”

**Author's Note:**

> I do love my aliens.


End file.
